Aftermath
by SabrinaScissorhands
Summary: "Ich kann nicht!" Gilbert's voice rang through his body, a tremor of defiance amongst the fear. But he could not fight the cold.  Following the dissolving of Prussia .


**[ a/n;; Angst-y. Very much so. Just a warning.**

**The German phrases are easy to guess their meanings. If you cannot, translate(dot)google(dot)com _is_ your friend;**

**danke~  
ls. ]**

**(edit; A few people have left reviews about a sequel? Ima try, lovies(:  
I'm not quite exactly sure how to, though...)**

* * *

_Nobody knew how the dissolving of Prussia would effect Gilbert. Ludwig let him stay in his house to watch out for him, and for awhile, everything was alright._

Gilbert was sprawled on the tiny, worn-out couch in his younger brother's living room. For the first time in awhile, he was in sweats, his hair a mess, his mind unworried. He mindlessly flipped through the TV channels, stopping on one channel for no longer than a few minutes at a time. Every so often, he would stop and just think for a moment before realising he had nowhere to be, no one to protect. Then he would continue his flipping of channels.

Ludwig watched from the kitchen. He hated seeing his brother this way, but there was just no way Gilbert could keep his country. There had been no other option; Germany had to be united, and Prussia was in the way of that. He sighed, walking over to where his brother was sitting.

"_Groß Bruder_, how are you?" he asked gently, sitting down on the couch beside him.

Gilbert didn't look away from the television. "I'm alright," he said softly. "Just pretty bored. I still can't believe you dissolved someone as _awesome_ as me." A small, sad smile touched his lips.

The same expression crossed the younger's face. "Sorry. You know why we…" He trailed off.

"I know, and I understand. I'm better alone anyway…"

"Gil…"

"Really." He smiled gently, looking up to the blonde. "I'm okay. I feel fine, I'm still alive, I'm still here. I'm okay." Gil looked back. "I'm awesome, after all."

Ludwig gave a quick tousle of his brothers hair. "Okay, Gil." He paused. "And, just cos you're not a country anymore, doesn't mean you can be… untidy. And… that includes your hair."

Gilbert laughed softly. "I'll try."

"You better."

The two sat there in silence for a moment, both looking at the TV, not really seeing it.

Finally, "_Ich liebe dich_, Gilbert…"

"…Love you too, Ludwig."

Ludwig gave his brother an apologetic glance before standing up. "I've got… things that I have to… so… I'll…"

The albino waved his hand nonchalantly. "Go ahead—I'm fine by myself, really."

"Okay, Gil. I'll see you later, then."

"Right. Bye."

Ludwig left the house without another word, leaving Gilbert alone to just his thoughts. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, really. And what did it matter—his people and his land were now his brother's. Nothing to worry about… right? He didn't feel he should miss it. Ludwig would take care of it. But then again… that was not really what was bothering him. Gil just wanted to feel… alive again. Despite what he'd told Ludwig, he felt sick. The feeling of his being unneeded made his stomach turn. He hated it.

After awhile of this wondering, he shut off the TV and went to his room. He collapsed to his bed, burying his head in his pillow, wondering if he really was okay after all.

**;;x**

Over the next few weeks, Gilbert knew he was most certainly _not_ okay. He found himself finding any reason to not move, to not interact with anyone. He often felt dizzy, and he attributed this to his lack of appetite of late. He did not much want to do anything.

On one of the few days that Gil had actually managed to pull himself from bed, he was standing in the kitchen watching Ludwig.

"You want anything, Gil?" he asked, glancing over.

It was morning, and the elder was still in his pyjamas, though he'd brushed his hair (for Ludwig's sake). He stood leaning against the far wall, eyes nearly shut.

"Not really," he muttered, "I'm not very hungry…"

"You don't seem to be lately," Ludwig commented. He pushed something around in a pan; Gil couldn't see what it was, didn't much care either. "I think you should eat something… do you want pancakes or what?"

"Whatever."

"Gilbert, please."

"Make them, whatever you want to make is awesome with me. I don't care…" he sighed, opening his eyes a bit more. "I'm sorry; I'm not very hungry. Make them if you like."

"I will…"

Gilbert didn't reply.

A few minutes later, he was sitting at the table, poking at the syrup-covered pancakes. It'd been an understatement when he said that he wasn't very hungry; he was not hungry at all. Gilbert forced himself to take a few bites, but he couldn't do much more than that. He pushed the plate away and then folded his arms on the table, burying his face in his arms. Only a moment passed before Ludwig sat down at the table across from him.

"Are you alright?" he questioned quietly.

"Ngh…"

He stood up and walked over to the albino. He placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. "What's wrong?"

"I… just feeling kind of sick, is all…"

Ludwig pursed his lips slightly. "Alright. I'm sure it's just shock from the whole… you know."

"Yeah…" Gil nodded weakly, forcing himself to look up at his brother.

But after a week, it had only gotten worse. Gilbert had the feeling this wasn't going to get any better, no matter what Ludwig said.

Gilbert was lying in bed, his arm hanging off the edge. It was mid-afternoon, and he'd been watching the digital clock's red numbers changing since he'd woken up around six. Occasionally, Ludwig would poke his head in, though the albino wouldn't react, wouldn't notice.

2:46.

_Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine_…

2:47.

_One, two, three, four_…

Gil suddenly squeezed his eyes shut as the numbers started to blur. He clenched his fists. Abruptly, a small cough broke in his throat. Cringing, he pulled his arm up, pressing his face to the crook of his elbow. A few more weak coughs escaped before he fell silent. Gilbert groaned.

"_Scheiße_," he muttered, rolling over.

An unexpected fit of coughs overtook him. He felt like his throat was burning, out of his control. Gilbert's body convulsed, his eyes went hazy. He hadn't really been aware of how loud he'd been until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Gilbert…! Gilbert…!"

He managed to glance up at his elder brother, his eyes watering slightly. The coughs subsided, but it was only for a moment. He tore his gaze from Ludwig, pressing his face to his pillow. Gilbert bit his lip, struggling to hold it back. He could still feel his brother's hand, and he succeeded in breathing regularly after a bit.

Gilbert glanced upwards.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked.

He stared up at his blue eyes and then shook his head feebly, dropping back to his pillow.

"I feel like shit."

A frown pulled at Ludwig's lips as he gently ran his hand over his brother's back. "Sorry," he whispered. "You'll get better."

Gil gave a sardonic smile into his pillow. "Right," he muttered. "I don't think so, Ludwig."

The blonde gave a heavy sigh. "You're just…"

"Dying?"

The word hung in the air for a long, heavy moment. The silence screamed in Gilbert's ear. He knew it was true, but somehow speaking it scared him. Rolling over, he cast his red eyes upwards, meeting Ludwig's blue.

"I don't want… to die."

"Gil…" He bent down by his bed. "I… you… you will not…" Ludwig looked to the side, feeling slightly awkward because of Gilbert's sudden change in attitude. Gilbert never acted scared or vulnerable. Yet, here he was. The Beilschmidts weren't emotional, yet they were both feeling the same thing here.

"But… I _am_."

The blonde couldn't look at his older brother.

"_Ludwig_… I…" The words came as a whimper.

He glanced to Gilbert. "I'll… stay here… with you. Okay?" It was all he could do, and Ludwig and Gilbert both knew it.

The albino gave a weak nod before being taken by violent coughing.

**;;x**

_Fifty-eight, fifty-nine_…

1:39.

_One, two, three_—

Cough. Tighten.

"Ludwig," Gilbert breathed, "you don't have to stay in here. You'll never sleep."

Ludwig had decided to stay in Gil's room that night. He was on the floor beside him, holding his hand. Normally, such a thing would have made them feel strange, but the albino really was scared of dying. Every time he coughed, the younger gave his hand a gentle squeeze, just to remind him that he was still there.

"It's okay, Gil. I… I don't mind. You're the one who needs sleep anyway…"

"You do—" Cough, "—too…" More coughs.

He ran his thumb softly over the back of Gil's hand. "Once you're asleep, I can too. Just… I dunno… try…"

Gilbert softly sighed. "Right."

"_Gute Nacht,_" Ludwig whispered.

"_Gute Nacht_," Gilbert returned quietly.

The morning came slowly, a dull pull at the consciousness, a tiny shine through curtained windows. Gil had never fallen into true sleep, but his eyes had shut, and the coughing had subsided, if only slightly.

At last, Gilbert could keep his eyes shut no longer. His eyes cracked open, and he was first aware of his brother's hand, still there.

"Lu-Ludwig…" he breathed.

His blue eyes immediately opened.

"I—" Before the albino could continue, though, his voice faded to empty gasps, coughs stealing the life from his lungs. His hand grasped desperately for Ludwig's. As his body convulsed, he could feel nothing more than that single grip, the one constant. He could feel himself fading, falling.

He let out a loud gasp, clutching with his free hand his throat. But feel it he did not. Another thing suddenly touched his awareness. Ludwig's hand on the back of his head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Gilbert cringed, biting his tongue, his lips, trying to get it to _stop_.

_Stop_. _I cannot die_.

And as he fell from himself, he could see it, feel it, see everything, feel everything.

Gilbert's eyes were burning, sealed shut, afraid. Tears down his pale face were like fire, his skin ice. His younger brother's touch was fading into the sea of cold Gilbert was falling into. He was trembling, trembling like a child.

"_Ich kann nicht!"_

Gilbert's voice rang through his body, a tremor of defiance amongst the fear. But he could not fight the cold. The fire inside him could only be doused, dying from a lack of oxygen.

After a long suffered moment, against his every will, his fire eyes fell shut, lost in the cold, trapped in the deep.

The only sound heard after that were the screams of a little brother, crying, cursing the coldness that had stolen away his family, his brother, his friend, all the while damning himself for sending that very wintriness upon him.


End file.
